


Seven Men, Seven Virtues

by epkitty



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Ambiguity, Character Study, Gen, Minor Violence, Sexual Content, Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Definitions taken from Webster's Expanded Dictionary. Written in 2001.

**Hope**   
_n. A desire of some good, accompanied with a belief that it is attainable; trust; one in whom trust or confidence is placed; the object of hope. —vi. (hoping, hoped). To entertain hope; to trust. —vt. To desire with some expectation of attainment._

It had been a long week, what with Ezra’s scheming and JD’s continuing education, not to mention Buck’s lady problems and constantly looking out for bounty hunters on Vin’s trail. At least Josiah and Nathan had the sense to keep out of trouble. Mostly.

Chris leaned heavily against the bar and gestured for another bottle; he wouldn’t be able to see straight after another couple of drinks, but hopefully that meant he’d be passed out by that point. He stared dismally at the worn counter-top of the bar, taking an absurd, drunken interest in the swirling patterns of spilled beer adorning the old maple-wood. With a bit of luck, one of the others would catch him before he fell face first into the obscene puddle. Again, not that it would matter by that point.

Once more, the man found his thoughts drifting back to a beautiful face framed with long brown hair accompanied by a child, a son—a family he would never forget, a family he’d barely had enough time to get accustomed to before they were torn from him in a cruel accident of fate. Never again, he promised himself. Never again would he grow to love something so much, that way it could never again be taken from him. What did he have, then? A backwater town to protect from the scum of the earth, six men to work alongside him, but never more than that, never friends, for a loss at this point might push him into an abyss that Buck could never again pull him out of. Chris was determined to steer clear of that path, and the only way to achieve such a goal, he reminded himself, was to avoid ever growing close to anything again.

Sure, he could leave at any moment without a hint of regret, pretend that the town, the people here, the men he worked with meant nothing. It was safe that way; THEY were safe that way; he was safe that way, inside and out, if nothing mattered.

One more shot and he was another step closer to oblivion. Another step closer to forgetting the cares he didn’t have. Another step closer to the welcoming nothingness of drunken slumber, of despair, and not caring about anything.


	2. Justice

**Justice**   
_n. Quality of being just; rectitude; propriety; impartiality; fairness; just treatment; merited reward or punishment; a judge holding a special office._

Vin was fairly certain he was being followed. The tracker ducked in the nearest darkened doorway, waiting for the man to round the alley’s far corner. The minutes stretched out forever… perhaps he’d been wrong.

Just when he was about to blame his over-active imagination for conjuring false dangers, a man slowly crept around that corner, inching nearer and nearer.

Vin thought he might just walk on by, but then the guy decided to play hero. He walked right down the center of the alley, stopping not ten feet from Vin’s little nook. “Vin Tanner! I’m Jesse Clements and I’m here to take you in for murder! You come out now and it’ll be painless, I swear!” The man, Jesse, chuckled heartily as if he had thought up the most ingenious plot for uncovering his prey.

Vin was pretty sure he could shoot the man’s gun away; the brazier at the end of the alley gave just enough light to see the reflection off Jesse’s rifle. Vin’s own Mare’s Leg was cocked and aimed and he called out to the man, “Don’t think so, cowboy!” as his shot echoed harshly between the buildings. It was a good thing too, for Jesse had turned at the sound of Vin’s voice, prepared to shoot first and run with the body, never asking questions.

The man doubled over, clutching his right hand and swearing up a storm of profanities about traitor bounty hunters when Vin stepped out from his hiding spot. Jesse glared up at him and as he lunged, shouted, “I’m taking you in; that bounty’s mine!”

Vin easily dodged the poorly aimed attack, bringing the butt of his rifle down on the man’s shoulders. Still, Jesse was a big man and he was off the ground as soon as he’d hit it, bringing a knife up at Vin’s stomach.

Vin did not hesitate. Once more, a gunshot reverberated through the otherwise empty alley, but now where there had stood two men, only one remained, staring down at the body of the other. “Looks like ya won’t be takin’ me in after all,” Vin said sadly of the corpse, a bounty hunter like he himself had been, just trying to earn a living. Who was Vin Tanner to act as the man’s judge, jury, and executioner? Unfortunately, he hadn’t much of a choice, in the wild streets where ‘kill or be killed’ was not only a rule for survival, but way of life unto itself.

 


	3. Faith

**Faith**   
_n. Belief; trust; confidence; conviction in regard to religion; system of religious beliefs; strict adherence to duty and promises; word or honor pledged._

Josiah knelt in one of the pews of his little church, the sanctuary that he was constantly fixing and restoring bit by bit. Someday, the house of worship would be fit for honest prayer from innocent and guilty folk alike, seeking forgiveness or giving thanks for their blessings. Until then, the old preacher man thought he might just fit in with the broken building, offering half-hearted prayers to a God who hadn’t once offered him anything in return.

Well, he WAS still alive, which in and of itself was a small miracle considering all the enemies he’d seen in his time, but at this point there seemed to be little difference between life and death, beside one exception. That being that while living, suffering was so much more tangible, and bone-deep through his weary body and tired soul, a soul tired of fighting for what was arguably ‘good’ and praying for what was arguably ‘penance.’ At this point, didn’t seem like he much deserved it, no matter how much good he’d tried to fill up the rest of his life with, redemption just wasn’t going to happen. His crimes against humanity were too many and too deep, and why should a heartless God respect a man who’d given up on him before he’d even understood what that meant?

No, no good could come of false prayers, of that Josiah was certain, which is why he’d quit them so long ago, giving up the mantle of priesthood along with the devotion and prayers that went with it. Yes, he’d given up the cloth for a gun, traded his long-lost trust in a God he hated for the rules of a rough life without law of any kind.

And still, here he was, seeking that penance in a broken-down church in a broken-down village with the broken men who protected it.

Josiah bowed his head. “And lo, though I walk through the valley of death…”


	4. Fortitude

**Fortitude**   
_n. Firmness of mind to encounter danger or to bear pain or adversity; resolute endurance._

Nathan sat in the upper rooms of his clinic, staring out at the dismal rain that had begun only moments before. He knew he should be glad of it, the much-needed water feeding the thirsty crops and parched land, but at the moment it only brought back hated memories of a time when rain was a constant accompaniment to life, a symbol of the chains that used to tie him to the land. He knew it was long ago, and tried to convince himself once more that the actions of some did not reflect the opinions of many, but how could such devastation be wreaked on a portion of humanity for so long when it was so incredibly vile and hateful?

He once more lifted his wrists and examined them in the light from the scattered candles, old marks of torture and punishment, the pain he’d endured for so long hardly soothed by the small acceptance he’d found in this town, the remembrance of evil deeds hardly comforted by the hope of future peace.

He hadn’t hesitated to run, to flee from a world where life meant pain, despite knowing the penalty for such an action. He’d been lucky. Others had not been.

And now he let the tears fall, for all those he’d left behind, for all those who had NOT escaped the torment of their masters.

He couldn’t bother himself to wipe the tears away, yet another symbol of all he’d gained and all he’d lost through the years of fighting for freedom for all. What a waste.


	5. Temperance

**Temperance**   
_n. Moderation in indulgence of the natural appetites; sobriety; abstinence from intoxicants._

“Oh God, yeah Katie!!!”

“Oh Buck… Buck!!!”

A sudden pounding interrupted the couple in the bed.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! I thought you said you weren’t married!”

“I-I’m not!” the flustered girl answered, aiding Buck in his search for the raiment that had been tossed about the room in an earlier fit of passion.

“Hey you! Open up in there!”

“If it ain’t yer husband, who is it?” Buck squirmed into his long johns and pants, pulled on shirt and boots.

“If you touched my daughter, I swear you’ll be sorry!!”

Buck glared with wide-eyes at the lovely young lady who he’d spent a most entertaining evening with. “You’re father?!” He’d intended to sound shocked, but the squeak betrayed his fear.

Katie shrugged and smiled sympathetically. “It’s not the first time. He won’t kill ya, just… play with ya a bit.”

“Oh how reassuring,” Buck snickered unhappily as he opened the window.

“Buck? Buck, where are you going?”

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t goin’ out there!” he gestured to the door that trembled with each pounding fist.

“But… it’s raining, you’ll slip…”

“How’s that for encouragement… Just… keep that door shut as long as you can.”

“Okay, but… well, watch out for my brothers.”

“What?!” But it was too late, one booted foot had hit the shingles, slick from the summer rain and Buck catapulted out the window gracelessly, the image of gun-toting brothers dancing dangerously in his mind’s eye.

Thankfully, his thought-processes weren’t completely fogged from his activities that night and so the scoundrel managed to catch a hold of the windowsill before rolling off the edge of the roof. He quickly let go however, when he was certain his body wouldn’t be sliding anywhere. He scooted up and to the side, plastering himself against the wet outer wall, out of sight of the window. Taking a breath to firm up his courage, he inched along the side of the second story along the awning roof. He slipped only twice on his journey two windows over, where he knocked against the glass.

“Buck?! What’re you doin’ out there?”

“Thought I’d go fer a midnight stroll,” he said sarcastically. “Kin I come in, Milly?”

“Course ya kin, Buck, hurry on up before yer soaked.”

“Little late for that…” Buck muttered as he climbed awkwardly down into the room.

“So,” Milly said knowingly. “What was all that ruckus out in the hallway? You happen to know?”

Buck poured on the charm, flashing a smile at the older, though not unattractive, woman, grasping her about the waist and leaning over her. “How about I show ya?” he whispered roughly before meeting her lips in a blazing kiss of passion.


	6. Prudence

**Prudence**   
_n. Quality of being prudent; caution; discretion._

Kid?! Kid! He wasn’t a ‘kid.’ JD kicked angrily at the stones in his path as he ducked out of the rain and into the livery. Why the other men insisted on treating him like such, he did not know. After all, he was the **sheriff** of this little town. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?

JD perked up at the sounds coming from the other end of the stable. These weren’t ordinary horse sounds though, no. These were deep, rumbling voices whispering in the dark stall at the end of the row of horses. Ducking behind an open stall door, JD peered into the darkness, wondering who would be out in the stable in this weather. It was a good thing he’d decided to do his rounds; they could be horse thieves looking for an easy mark. Well, they picked the wrong town, and the wrong sheriff to tussle with.

JD drew his pistols and began a quick but quiet journey down through the dimly lit livery to the other end, past the familiar horses and tack, closer to the unknown disturbance. “Hey!” he shouted. “Who’s there? You all better come out nice and easy then!”

“What’s it to you?” a deep voice answered him.

“I’m the sheriff of this here town. You better not be looking fer trouble, cause you just found some.”

Three large men bearing assorted firearms withdrew from the shadowy stall. “Well now,” said the one who’d answered him before, “We ain’t lookin’ fer trouble, are we boys?”

Rumbling chuckles answered their leader as the three men began to fan out around JD, guns cocked and aimed at the youngster.

JD gulped, feeling a chill run up his spine as he slowly began to back up the way he’d come. “Look now, I think you’d best be leaving before anyone does something stupid; I got friends—”

“He just call us stupid?” one of the men asked.

“Ya know, I think he did, Harr.”

JD never heard the man behind him and couldn’t imagine what that terrible pain on the back of his head was. The last thought before slipping into the welcoming blackness was that perhaps he should’ve collected the others like Buck always told him to do before rushing in on his own, like he always did, but it was a little late for forethought after the fact.


	7. Charity

**Charity**   
_n. A disposition to relieve the wants of others; benevolence; alms; a charitable institution._

“I see your ten and raise another,” the southern drawl announced confidently.

The ranch hand frowned, but met the bet even as Ezra flashed a charming smile and chatted on about the bar and the game and any number of things, driving the poor man near hysteria. “Jus’ shut up and show fancy man!”

Ezra raised his eyebrows in his practiced expression of affronted innocence even as he laid a hand across where his heart (although some might say he didn’t have one) resided within his chest. “But my dear fellow, it’s all a part of the game,” Ezra declared, adding another ten to the respectable pile of paper notes gathered on the table between them.

The hand grumbled but met the bet, glaring at the southern gambler with a mix of hate and hope, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Well, I call,” the lawman finally declared, laying down five cards.

“That… that’s a full house,” the rancher stuttered, letting his own hand fall to the table, revealing two pair.

“Well, it’s good to know your game,” Ezra agreed, reaching forward to liberate his winnings from the tabletop. He eagerly hid the bills away, the money disappearing into the many layers of his clothes as he stood. “I do believe it’s time to call it a night, quit while you’re ahead I say. I do hope we shall see each other at the tables again, Mr. Robinson,” Ezra said amiably with a tip of his black Stetson.

The ranch hand stared with devastated shock at the empty table, hardly hearing the other’s words.

Without another thought to the easy mark, Ezra turned away, spying Mr. Larabee about to collapse onto the filthy bar. The southerner smirked and took off for the staircase that would lead up to his room. He noticed a rather disconcerted older fellow clumping down the stairs. He was so preoccupied that he barely took notice when the small gambler collided with him. “Pardon me,” Ezra began with another tip of his hat, but the man just flounced away. Another smirk and Ezra climbed the steps to his room.

Once in the relative privacy of the hallway, he examined the wallet he’d lifted from the irate man on the stairs. “Still got it!” Ezra smiled to himself, unlocking the door to his room and stowing his earnings away.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
